ecstasy | corpse husband

chapter 15.

outskirts of seattle, washington
day five

"help me, help me, please!" a shrill voice drenched in panic and desperation. It belongs to a younger man, perhaps nearing his late twenties, with dirty blonde hair soaked from rain and sweat alike, sticking to his forehead.

and his hand, stained and bloody.

elowen needs a couple of seconds to take in the situation thrown at her as the last thing she remembers clearly in her head is peaceful quiet and corpse. corpse.

she looks to the left. he's there, studying the man outside through the window. he looks immensely skeptical and wary, even. everything about his features is hardened. every one of his walls has gone back up.

"please, I can't go back there," the soggy man chokes out in anguish through the glass. "h-help me, help me, help me..." her door handle jiggles incessantly, his doing, but it's locked.

the man looks sickeningly distressed, the tone of his voice yanking at her heart strings so violently she thinks she could feel his ache. "how do we help him?" she asks corpse, her focus never straying from the man sobbing outside her door.

"oh, God..." those two words from corpse tell her all she needs to know. they're about to disagree and it is going to be painful. "are you actually even considering opening that door? you have no clue what you might be letting in."

she bristles at his tone. "don't make me sound so naive for wanting to figure out what's wrong."

"look at the guy, elowen," corpse urges with a flick of his eyes to the window. "he's not well."

"obviously not, something happened to him. he's suffering out there. we can't ignore him."

the soggy man's hand continues to smear the blood, which has intertwined with the rain drops on the window, and the concoction swirls all over the glass. he's still pleading through his weeping, though unintelligible now.

"there's blood on his hands," corpse points out. "curious where he got it from?"

"what if it's his? he could be injured."

"he could be sick."

"does he look ill to you?" she outbursts, a whisper-shout at best, and heat flares in her chest at the all too familiar situation. she still remembers that woman who died in her car, when they were first leaving corpse's apartment. they let it happen. she let him decide for her that day. she may have followed him then but she wouldn't back down this time. "he looks distressed, not infected."

"we can't possibly know that. we can't know where he's been, or what his plans are. is that a risk you're willing to take?"

some part of her knows he's right, but some part of her also doesn't care. not doing anything will make things worse, she believes. they have to be decent humans. the world can't handle losing its humanity along with its sanity.

"yes." elowen looks corpse in the eyes when she answers him.

he holds her stare. his expression is rough, any traces of the calm from before dissipated now. he grips the steering wheel with both hands, almost rests his forehead on it like he's frustrated and unsure how to get through to her.

"elowen. fuck." his tone is even and relatively in control despite his words. "I know this is hard for you but please, think with your head and not with your heart." she furrows her eyebrows—that's like asking her to be someone she's not. he continues, intent on cracking her. "think about elijah. he's safe in here, but if you open that door, it doesn't matter."